Most of my inspiration is from sadness...When I write, I create a release..I have no intention of causing depression from my poetry, if anything I appreciate the ability to express it.

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

The night is long
when you've torched this building down,
I find rubble of our old conventions scattered..
It seems you now..
Superstitions circulate my peace, molding a shadow around our dreams.

These bodies of flesh are trapped between souls of stone,
Separated across the river bed, toss pieces back and forth...
Reflections in the water forsee love, the distance pay the toll,
Split between the distant shore..

He chose to suffer for inner peace,
She cries when he leaves..
No return from the beginning till end,
Tears turned to sand and pride washed away in the shore.

My flesh is burned, as sharp as stone,
Roll in my bed, the nights a tomb,
My lovers request to sleep alone,
Departed before the night is done.

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